You spent the rest of the day at home, by yourself. Really after partying that hard the night before, you wouldn't be up for much even if you were properly intact, and this wasn't exactly the first time this week you'd had to spend a day without anything between your legs. You just took it easy, crashed on the couch, hydrating, watched a few movies, and did your best not to worry about having to leave your little guy with the sitter for the day.
So first thing Sunday morning, there you were, waking up early after some pretty on the nose nightmare about having your penis stolen, freaking out when you couldn't find it, remembering what happened, and texting Jenny asking when you can swing by for it, trying to be a bit discreet in how you framed it. And waiting for a response.
And waiting.
Waiting some more.
It really did feel like an eternity. You didn't want to be one of those guys who freaks out and sends a woman thirty messages in an hour, but, she had your penis.
Around 3 PM you picked up the phone and called. Got her voicemail. You did your best to keep a level-headed tone but stressed that you really did want to meet back up with her as soon as she could manage because you left something important behind when you dropped her off. Again, no telling if someone's in the room when people play these things.
Finally, around 3:30, you got a text back, which simply said "I'm really sorry." Not a good sign. With some long pauses between, a couple more followed.
"I hope you don't freak out here."
"I was really trying to be careful, but I TEMPORARILY lost it."
"I swear, I'll get it back to you. See, what happened was..."